I cook.
I clean.
I wash
and rinse,
and wipe,
and hug,
and carry,
and the kisses never stop.

I smoke occasionally,
gripping tightly to the cigarette of my sanity
exhaling the heartache to dive and windsail,
lips longing.

I cry between naps,
pray as they fall into sleeps
of good dreams,
of true love.

I bite my bleeding lips.
I clutch my clothes
as they continue to fall
head first
in,
to experience reality.

I hold my breath at times,
for fear my leaving will
cause the wailing only
darkness knows.

I eat small bites
between their smiles and their tears. I
trust noone to tell them their truth.
I paint their names on spaces,
making comfort and room where ere’ they go,
as toys are thrown at me again and again,
but the kisses never stop.

We clap.
We sing
and speak languages
only mothers and babies know.

My shirt drenched in snot, slobber, and vomit.
Pants stained with blood and piss.
You say I am a bad mom
as you walk out on us weeping,
leaving a trail of pieces that will
cut and scar us
for lifetimes.

Oh man to the feeling of
a baby coming out of you
while you crunch on a honeycrisp apple smothered in peanut butter and wonder
if you will be angrier this time.
Will your partner laugh as you squeal
operatic tones cascading from
what is only the pain of life,
while the clown nurse with blue eye shadow
and ruby red lips asks again if
I want to see the human head
stretching out the final ounce
of virginity I have left
from between my shuttering legs?
Will the little blue and red body
laid upon my breast be mine this time
or will he be stolen for half a day
and pricked and prodded and given artificial
air and bath and food and love
from women who didn’t
writhe and vomit and cry him into existence?
Oh man to the feeling
of a baby coming out of you
and onto this bright and damned earth.

i am
as faint as a heartbeart
a back drop
the seam binding your fabric
an underground root
as ephemeral as god
and
i am as necessary
as the air you breathe
as water to trees
as organic to bees
but only when i am finally gone